


A Holiday Romance in C Major

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:16:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings (if any): Language, fluff, angst, oral, misuse of a piano. AU in that the war happened, but Remus didn't die, and never married Tonks.<br/>Summary: By the sea, clashing notes and crashing thunder make two journeys worthwhile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure this is alright, Harry?"  
  
"Remus, ask me that one more time and I'm going to whack you with your ridiculously..." Harry grunted mid-sentence, "Heavy..." he huffed and dumped what he held on the floor, "Suitcase! Merlin's balls, what have you got in there?"  
  
"Books," Remus answered guiltily, regretting sliding the last few into the crammed zip seconds before he had to leave for the station.  
  
"You're just like Hermione," Harry snorted, brushing off his hands. "Ron swears that he's going to end up with chronic back problems because of her book fetish."  
  
"I highly doubt it's a fetish." Remus smirked as he moved off to look out of the window. "Otherwise I'd be quite worried for Ron."  
  
Harry's laugh was warm and filled the tiny little annex which was attached to the main house.   
  
"So is this alright?" the younger wizard asked anxiously, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I mean... think you'll be comfortable here for the week?"  
  
"Harry, compared to some of the places I've stayed, this is a palace."  
  
Remus meant it. The rooms, as small as they were, had pleasant décor, smooth wooden flooring and a comfortable looking sofa. He peered into the bedroom and found that equally as pleasing.  
  
"What's behind there?"  
  
"Second bedroom." Harry shrugged. "Tiny, not enough room to swing a cat in that. We keep the camp beds in there for if anyone needs them."  
  
"Do you get many visitors?"  
  
"Nah," Harry snorted. "Too out of the way. We go down to Molly's for all the big things. It's too small but we're thinking of renting it out as a holiday let."  
  
"For a single traveller, though, it's perfect. But wouldn't you mind them intruding on your life... you've gotten quite private in your old age?"  
  
"Old?" Harry stared with a spreading grin. "Old, really?"  
  
"Years only tick by, Harry," Remus teased with his own answering smile. "But you're not as old as I am, so don't worry about it."  
  
"It wouldn't be a problem. You've got your own entrance and hey, if I don't like you, I'll just lock the door which leads to the house. That's a win, if you ask me."  
  
"Won't Ginny mind?"  
  
"Maybe, if she was ever here. But the Quidditch season's in full swing at the minute, so it's just me by myself. Lucky if I get to see her on weekends."  
  
"Harry, you live ten minutes from the training grounds," Remus said warily.  
  
"I know." Harry scratched the back of his head. "But we're not here to talk about that, you're on holiday."  
  
"We _will_ be talking about this," Remus called to his retreating back, but, as with James many years before Harry, he had the distinct impression that the words flew in one ear and out of the other.  
  
Sighing, Remus left the door open and enjoyed the sea breeze fluttering through it. It had taken him a year and a half to finally take up Harry's invitation to travel and stay with him in the sea-view house he had bought for himself after the war, when he had decided that moving into Grimmauld Place was too difficult.  
  
Remus couldn't blame him, because he had his own history within the old walls which turned his stomach to face. He dropped into a crouch, dragging his suitcase over and unlocking it, deciding to empty some of the literature before he attempted lifting it again. If Harry had noticed the limp in Remus' right leg, the younger man had done well not to mention it, but it didn't eradicate the problem's existence. His last transformation had been rough. Summer heat always made the wolf restless, more likely to lash out at his own flesh.  
  
"You're on holiday," he growled at himself, standing up with his arms full. "None of that. Be happy. That's what people do on holidays."  
  
Remus wasn't entirely sure if that was the truth, seeing as he had never really _been_ on a holiday before, but he was willing to take a chance if it quieted the disparaging thoughts in his mind.  
  
***  
  
He had also heard that, on holiday, it was acceptable to take naps whenever one felt like it, and so Remus had tried that, too. The bed was warm beneath his back, and comfier than he had expected. His nap had been a success until a full bladder had urged his eyes open. The sun had changed course, hitting a different wall to the one which had been bright when he'd fallen asleep, and he guessed that most of the afternoon had flown by. He got to his feet and ambled to the window, looking out at the sea, which had crept up the beach.  
  
It was then that he heard the voices. Edging towards the bedroom door, which he had left open thinking that he would be undisturbed, he concentrated. Harry was arguing with somebody, and the second voice was one that Remus thought he recognised.  
  
"Harry, I'll be fine," the voice said flatly. "Stop worrying."  
  
"Well when you won't bloody tell me why you're here, I will worry, thanks."  
  
"It's... I'll tell you a bit later. I just need to cool off before I can talk about it. I might punch something."  
  
Remus peered around the door and saw a tall body and a flaming head of hair.  
  
"There you are," Harry said, catching sight of him, and Ron jumped and turned around.  
  
"Remus." He looked nervous as blue eyes swept over his form before Ron turned back to Harry. "Why didn't you-"  
  
"I've been trying to." Harry rolled his eyes. "But you wouldn't let me get a word in edgeways. You can't sleep in the spare because Remus is staying with us for a week, and you know this place isn't big enough for two people."  
  
Ron's face creased with disappointment, but Remus mainly thought he looked desperate.  
  
"Remus, do you mind?" Ron turned to him suddenly. "You won't even notice I'm here. I'll go to sleep and fuck off during the day. I promise."  
  
"Of course I don't mind." Remus frowned. He had wondered if the rooms would grow lonely, and assumed he would just join Harry in the main house if that grew to be the case. The thought of Ron's company actually made him happy. "But sleeping in there might be a bit... what if I take that one and you-"  
  
"No." Ron shook his head. "I'll take the spare, you take the main room. You were here first. I'll be back later."  
  
He headed for the door and ducked through it.  
  
"Dinner's at seven-thirty!" Harry yelled after him.  
  
They both stared at the redhead's retreating back as he headed for the beach with his head bowed.  
  
"I have no idea," Harry said distantly, as Remus opened his mouth to ask what was wrong.  
  
"Argument with Hermione?"  
  
"Some argument." Harry whistled, and followed his friend through the door.  
  
***  
  
"I didn't bring you on holiday to cook." Harry glared reprovingly over the table, but Remus shrugged and looked away. "Thanks, though."  
  
"It's nice," Ron added quietly, and then returned to silence, eating his way slowly through his plate.  
  
"So," Remus looked between them, determined to strike up a conversation, "how's work going?"  
  
"Alright," they answered together, and then Harry snorted and said, "Well. Sometimes."  
  
"Do you enjoy it like you thought you would, or do you wish you'd chosen differently at the end of the war?"  
  
"Once a teacher always a teacher." Harry rolled his eyes and took a swig of ale from his bottle. "I'm enjoying it now we're done with training... no more exams, or fighting fake dummies. Like Ron always said, what was the point of fighting fake ones when we'd already duelled our fair share of real ones?"  
  
Remus laughed and looked over at Ron, who was staring down at his plate. "And you, Ron?"  
  
"I like it too," he glanced up, "now that the trials are all over."  
  
"Must have been difficult," Remus swallowed.  
  
"Horrible," Ron confirmed, and looked out of the back window.  
  
"It was weird," Harry leant back on two chair legs, and Remus only stopped himself in time from chastising and asking him to return to earth for his own safety. "You'd think there'd be this sense of justice, but I ended up feeling sorry for half of them. They'd been promised the earth but got nothing except a ticket to prison."  
  
"Well, they made bad choices," Remus said fairly. "You have to remember that."  
  
"Hard, though." Harry shrugged. "Anyway, that's all in the past now, right? Just in here it goes on," he tapped his head. "Ron, are you going to eat that or what?"  
  
There was a clunk as Ron dropped his fork and swallowed.  
  
"I'm not really hungry."  
  
"You're a walking dustbin, of course you're hungry." Harry frowned.  
  
"I'm... look, are you going to let me rest until you know?" Ron asked flatly, his brashness marring the soft, content mood of the kitchen.  
  
Harry leant back in his chair and waited, wisely, in Remus' opinion, choosing not to say anything.  
  
"Would you like me to go, so you can talk in private?" Remus offered, half out of his chair.  
  
"Stay." Ron shrugged. "It's nothing that can't be said in front of you and it'll be common knowledge before long so..."  
  
"Ron, what's the matter?" Harry asked as blatant anxiety tightened his tone.  
  
"Hermione and I have decided to split up."  
  
Ron said the words in an oddly formal tone, as though he had chosen them to try and make the blow lighter on himself. His shoulders were stiff, set hard in the chair and Remus noticed how his jaw clenched.  
  
"W-What?" Harry stammered, as the colour drained from his face.  
  
"Splitting up," Ron reiterated, and rose to his feet. "It's mutual."  
  
Remus wasn't sure he believed that, but he said nothing as Ron walked to the back door.  
  
"I'm going to bed," Ron called back over his shoulder before he disappeared from view.  
  
"I can't believe it." Harry stared straight ahead as he slumped in his chair. "They've been so _good_ together. Arguing less. I thought they loved one another... in fact, I thought he'd come here to tell me he'd asked her to marry him."  
  
"I thought they did that months ago?" Remus frowned.  
  
"No." Harry shook his head. "But you agree, right, they looked close enough to do it?"  
  
"Not everything is as it seems," Remus sighed. "Do you want to go and check on him? I'll wash up."  
  
"You're on holiday," Harry said, distractedly.  
  
"It doesn't matter." Remus reached for Ron's half-eaten plate. "Go and be with your friend, Harry."  
  
The shorter man left and Remus hummed to himself as he carried everything to the large sink. The view from the back window of Harry's house was absolutely stunning. The sky outside was nowhere near dark, but the sea had deepened in colour and the sand glowed. It was idyllic, far too pretty for the sad news which had just been imparted in the homey kitchen in which he stood.  
  
Methodically, Remus washed up, letting the water scald his hands as he worked. Harry didn't return, and by the time he was drying his fingers, Remus decided it would be best to give them time, and chose to look around the house rather than disturb them.  
  


* * *

  
  
Remus stood rubbing the sleep out of his own eyes when he heard a crash and a loud curse from behind him. He turned to see Ron slumped against the door frame, massaging his shoulder and blinking in the sunlight.  
  
"Too fuckin' bright in here," he mumbled, yawning into his hand.  
  
Remus saw the deep circles beneath blue eyes and wondered if the redhead had achieved any sleep at all.  
  
"Morning," he offered softly, and Ron grunted in response. His long bones straightened and he slouched towards the sofa, where he fell in a whoosh of limbs, freckles and flaming hair.  
  
Remus caught a whiff of masculine sweat on the air as his body landed.  
  
"Sleep alright?" Ron asked, after a few more yawns and a dog-like shake of his head. "I didn't hear you when I was up."  
  
"It was good." Remus nodded, only just realising that he was only in his pyjama bottoms, having found the small room too warm to sleep fully dressed. He was suddenly nervous of his scarred flesh and skinny upper body, but there was no point in hiding.  
  
Ron lounged without consequence on the sofa, in just his boxer shorts. Sunlight caught the copper hairs on his legs and sent them ablaze. The younger wizard sensed that he was under surveillance, and looked up to meet Remus' eye.  
  
"I want to ask you something," Ron said quietly.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Can we just not... mention it?"  
  
"Mention what?" Remus caught on quickly, and sent the redhead a wink.  
  
Ron stared back before his face relaxed and he tipped his head back on the sofa cushions.  
  
"Can I ask you something else?" He lifted both eyebrows.  
  
"Anything you like." Remus smiled, rubbing his palms together and wishing he could make a break for the toilet.  
  
"Why do you have so many books?" Ron looked at the shelf which Remus had filled up the day before.  
  
"Because I like reading," Remus gave the obvious answer. "That and they're really quite good for propping open windows which won't stay open."  
  
Ron fixed him with a curious look.  
  
"My house is quite old... sash windows." Remus gestured awkwardly. "They won't stay open and..."  
  
Ron gave a little laugh and got to his feet again. "I'm going to go and make breakfast. Do you want a fry-up?"  
  
"I'd love one." Remus edged towards the toilet.   
  
"And how much do you need to pee right now?" Ron's face split into a knowing grin.  
  
"You little sod," Remus huffed, and turned into the loo.  
  
***  
  
Remus had to admit, the holiday idea might have been a good one. He had spent the morning well fed after Ron's breakfast effort, and then had spent the rest of it walking the beach and exploring the local village. It was quiet, without many local amenities, but it was clearly enough. Tired, he had returned to the house and found it empty. He had no idea where the boys were, but the house was rather eerie without excess noise.  
  
He frowned as he opened a door he hadn't been through before, and found a light room which he hadn't discovered or been shown the day before. It was largely empty, bar a sheeted object which stood in the corner. Unable to resist, Remus approached it and curled his fingers into the cotton, tugging hard.  
  
What appeared surprised him. The old piano was beautiful, made with yellowed ivory keys. He reached out and depressed one, hearing a near-perfect note. He dropped the sheet and sat down on the stool, smoothing the tips of his fingers over the keys.  
  
Just sitting there, looking at the empty stand for music, reminded him of his childhood. Memories of his grandmother swept him up and even her scent, powdery and sweet, crept up in his nostrils for the first time in years. He had spent afternoons at her house before he was turned, and she would let him play her piano.  
  
The tune he was playing went off key and Remus kept it up, making up his own melody as he simply touched the keys, letting the noise drown out the sound of the sea beyond the walls of the house. He shifted the pedals and found them stiff, so left them alone, and moved his right hand up an octave.  
  
 _Doesn't feel right without her, though..._  
  
Remus sighed, unable to stop his fingers moving now that he had started. Feeling so young again made his neck creep. Barely trying, he could feel his grandmother's embrace wrapped around him, the swell of her breasts pressing into his five-year-old back, her papery hand moving his fingers over the keys.  
  
"Remus?"  
  
He jumped, his fingers clamping down on the keys and making a horrific clashing noise.  
  
"You were doing alright then." Ron folded his arms over his chest and leant on the door frame. "Have you seen Harry?"  
  
"No, I came back, found the house empty and assumed he was with you..."  
  
"I've been walking." Ron shrugged. "Do you play that then?"  
  
"This?" Remus lifted his fingers up and rested his hands on his thighs. "Not very well."  
  
"Sounded pretty good to me." Ron slouched over.  
  
"Have you ever played one?"  
  
"Me? I can't even hold a tune in the shower." Ron rolled his eyes, looking down apprehensively as Remus budged up on the long stool for him to sit.  
  
"Well, it's hard, but worth a try."  
  
Remus watched as the twenty-year-old sat gingerly down and extended a long forefinger to press down on a black key.  
  
"Well, touching it is a great start." Remus winked.  
  
"Git," Ron said idly, though his words held no conviction.  
  
"Three fingers." Remus reached out and made a C chord. "That's a chord."  
  
"Pretty," Ron said dryly.  
  
"You don't care." Remus laughed, and knocked Ron's hand out of the way and started up another gentle tune, though he made most of it up because he couldn't remember all of what he had been taught.  
  
"How do you know how to play it?" Ron asked.  
  
"My Nan taught me when I was little, a long time ago..." Remus swiped his finger along the keys with a quick dash of notes, which sounded merry and final.  
  
"Nobody in my family is musical... Charlie plays his mate's drums when he gets the chance but that's just bashing about... nothing like you were doing."  
  
"You sound impressed." Remus laughed, getting to his feet. "You really shouldn't be. Listen to someone who truly knows how to play a piano and you'll see I know nothing."  
  
"Sounded nice to me." Ron shrugged and followed him up. "I wonder where they found this, anyway. There's only one person with a worse voice than me and that's Harry."  
  
"Maybe it was here when they moved in," Remus suggested, stooping to pick up the sheet. "Help me with this?"  
  
"Leave it uncovered," Ron dismissed. "I don't think they'll mind if you're in here."  
  
"One problem," Remus pointed out. "No music. I can't keep on making up my own, because I'll just convince myself it's good."  
  
"You don't really have much confidence, do you?" Ron asked shrewdly.  
  
Remus didn't answer but looked out of the window to avoid having to.  
  
"I'll see you later, yeah?" Ron murmured softly.   
  
"Are you..." Remus turned, but found the small room and the doorway empty. Ron was gone, leaving only the taste of his scent on the air.  
  


* * *

  
  
"I thought Ginny was supposed to be coming?" Ron raised his eyebrows as Harry set another pint down in front of him.  
  
Remus watched the interaction between them and kept his mouth shut, noting the way that a crease had appeared between Harry's eyes, and the way that Ron was staring with blunt intent.  
  
"She got called for an emergency training session... they're playing tomorrow, yeah?"  
  
"How often does she get called like that?" Ron asked.  
  
"Quite a bit... hazard of being the star attraction, I suppose. She really wants to get picked for the England squad for the World Cup."  
  
"And what about her family?" Ron's eyes finally dropped into the depths of his pint.  
  
"You don't have to tell me that," Harry muttered, his green irises looking out over the other patrons. "Maybe you should talk to her."  
  
"I think if I do, she'll rip my balls off about Hermione," Ron breathed.  
  
Remus immediately felt uncomfortable and far too old to be sitting at their table. Both of the younger men looked completely broken-hearted about the way of their relationships, and failed to see what he could offer them in terms of solace. It had been a long time since Remus had participated in anything which could be construed as a 'relationship'. The usual pangs of regret and hurt squeezed his guts and he took a mouthful of his pint to soothe them.  
  
"What a sorry little bunch we are, eh?" Harry sighed finally, turning his attention back to the table. "This was meant to be a fun night out... not a pity party."  
  
"Well, here's to failed expectations." Ron rolled his eyes and knocked back the last of his glass. "I think I'm going to head back to the house, Harry."  
  
"Do you know the way?"  
  
Remus heard the protective edge in Harry's tone, and was relieved that he was not the only one to have been made anxious by the distant look in Ron's eyes, his quiet tone and the downturn of his lips. Harry was not asking if Ron knew the way home; he was simply telling him not to disappear as he walked.  
  
"You know what?" Remus assessed his pint glass. "I think I'm about done here. Why don't I come with you and then if we get lost, we get lost together?"  
  
It was a wildly transparent attempt, and Ron especially saw straight through it, but the redhead shrugged and got to his feet. "I don't mind."  
  
"I'm going to stay for a bit." Harry gestured to his full glass. "Mingle with the locals and get my name in the good books... after George turned the post office pink the last time he was here, we've not been particularly popular."  
  
"Maybe you should be staying to look after Harry instead of escorting me to my door," Ron snorted, before he turned and left the pub.  
  
"Look after him," Harry said firmly to Remus, before he got to his feet and approached the bar, drink in hand.  
  
When he stepped out into the night, a sea breeze immediately wrapped around his throat and made him shudder. Remus looked around and saw Ron lounging on a bollard, his legs bent out to balance his body as he looked over the sea.  
  
"Amazing, isn't it?" Remus offered, tilting his head back to look up at the stars.  
  
"Yeah," Ron muttered back and rose to his feet with a tired little moan. "C'mon then."  
  
They walked in silence as their feet slapped into the deserted pavements. From every angle they heard the sea and the wind, and Remus didn't think he had ever really known such peace.  
  
"What did you do today?" Ron offered finally, as they edged out of the village and aimed for the path which would take them to Harry's house.  
  
"I went further afield to a bigger town... doing what I usually do."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"Drifting." Remus laughed. "Searching for things which make me happy... history, old bookshops."  
  
Ron seemed to freeze, and his footsteps faltered on the pavement.   
  
"What's the matter?" Remus frowned.  
  
"Nothing." The redhead's recovery speed was admirable, Remus thought. "Nothing I just... every time I went on holiday with her, she'd want to find an old book shop and..." he visibly shuddered.  
  
"Not a fan?"  
  
"They always smell of... old." Ron laughed. "What's wrong with new books, right?"  
  
"New books don't have a history."  
  
"It's a book, why does it need history?"  
  
" _It_ doesn't... I do."  
  
Ron said nothing to that until he sighed and said, "I guess that makes sense. You're like her then... always needing a past... needing depth. I think that's where I went wrong. Disappointed her. Not a very deep person."  
  
"On the contrary, I'd say you are," Remus said quietly.  
  
"I have a confession to make," Ron looked to his side at Remus and grimaced apologetically. "I nabbed one of your books off the shelf. I got really bored when I was up last night."  
  
"Don't apologise." Remus laughed. "No, really, don't. Which did you take?"  
  
"The only one which looked like it might be interesting... and a bit porny."  
  
"Lady Chatterley's Lover?" Remus hedged a guess.  
  
"Got me." Ron grinned, shaking his head.  
  
"How far into it are you?"  
  
Their conversation had brought them to the house, and Ron unlocked the doors with his wand. They proceeded to the tiny annex, where a few candles burst to life.  
  
"All I know is that the gamekeeper sounds a lot sexier than Hagrid ever was. Night, Remus."  
  
Ron gave him a wave and disappeared into his impossibly tiny bedroom. Remus laughed at first, thinking of his comment, but when it actually sunk in, he froze and blinked at the man's closed door.  
  
 _Did he really just say that?_  
  
Wondering how much more there was to the separation of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger than he knew, Remus headed to the bathroom, trying to ignore the somewhat obvious flutters of excitement in his belly.  
  


* * *

  
  
Remus realised that the sound of pounding water had probably been the give away. The steam curling from beneath the bathroom door had been another. Yet, he had still reached out, desperate for the loo, and depressed the handle.  
  
He was _still_ standing, despite all the clues and his own sense of decorum, appreciating the back view of Ronald Weasley as he showered completely unaware that he was under surveillance. His back was surprisingly strong for such a slender man and the globes of his buttocks were firm. Fine red hairs clung to his skin as the water trickled everywhere.  
  
Remus nearly choked when Ron's arm bent and began to work.  
  
 _I am absolutely not standing here watching Harry's best friend wanking in the shower. Absolutely not. No. No way._  
  
He didn't move. Ron's arm worked harder, leaving Remus with no doubt of the length of his hidden cock. The other arm suddenly flung out to rest on the tiles and Ron's head dropped, revealing the long, kissable line of his neck.  
  
"God," Remus muttered beneath his breath, gripping the door frame.  
  
A sweet, luscious little moan rose over the pounding water and, the need to urinate completely forgotten, Remus found himself instantly hard.  
  
"Fuck," Ron groaned, flexing his knees and hissing. "Fuck... fuck.... yesssss..."  
  
 _Vocal. Just how you like them._  
  
Ron didn't get any quieter as he flew towards his climax. Remus' skin crept on his wrists and neck, knowing he was perverted, but the discomfort wasn't enough to make him close the door. When a strangled cry signalled the end, and Ron's arse cheeks clenched as he rose up onto his toes and squirted his come over the wall, Remus actually forgot to breathe.  
  
When all was silent, bar the constant pounding of the water, he held his breath purposefully, dreading discovery. Ron, however, seemed in too much of a trance to notice as Remus pulled the door to and quietly shut it. He turned and nearly fell over the sofa in his haste, causing his rigid arousal to press into the back. He failed to keep his moan of pleasure at the friction in his mouth.  
  
Knowing that he should ease his problem, Remus determinedly headed in the opposite direction to the outer door, hoping that some bracing sea air might chase off the pornographic display of Ron's orgasm which had begun to play over and over in his mind.  
  
***  
  
"Thanks." Remus smiled at Harry as he set a mug of tea down on the table in front of him.  
  
"Biscuit?" Harry waved a pack of chocolate digestives invitingly and Remus rolled his eyes.  
  
"Do you even need to ask?"  
  
"Nope." Harry happily ripped the head off the pack and plonked them down dead centre between them. "Help yourself then."  
  
Remus took two, the highest amount he felt was polite without looking like a gannet, and dunked one into the strong, milky cup of tea Harry had made him.  
  
"How're you enjoying your rest then?" Harry asked, once more leaning back on two chair legs and balancing his tea on his knee.  
  
"It's good." Remus sent biscuit crumbs flying everywhere as he spoke. "Sowwee."  
  
"I don't think Ron's having as good a time." Harry grimaced.  
  
Remus swallowed, licked the chocolate from around his teeth and a swig of tea before he spoke again. "I've been meaning to talk you about that, actually."  
  
"Has he said something?" Harry asked eagerly. "I knew he would! Everyone always talks to you because you're so bloody nice."  
  
"He's not really said anything," Remus said, and the younger wizard's face fell. "I suppose that means Ron doesn't think I'm as nice as the rest of you do."  
  
Harry laughed him off and shook his head. "He's just being so quiet. He hasn't even been to his brothers, and I know he's been talking to them more since the war."  
  
"What are your theories for why they broke up?"  
  
"Maybe her job?" Harry mused. "She's always busy and never around much... but then neither is he. I mean, our schedule's pretty intensive. I took time off because you were coming and I know he just took emergency leave... I asked, see..."  
  
"What reason did he give the Ministry?"  
  
"Personal difficulty."  
  
"Do you really think they mean it?" Remus dipped his last biscuit. "Or do you think they'll get back together?"  
  
"I hope they do." Harry chewed on his lip. "They'll see sense."  
  
Remus sighed and leant back in his chair, wondering whether he should voice his thoughts or not.  
  
"You can't sigh like that and then not tell a man what he's done to disappoint you," Harry said wryly.  
  
"It's not disappointment," Remus insisted. "I just wonder... why do people want people back together when being apart might actually be better for them."  
  
"But they're _Ron and Hermione_ ," Harry said, as though Remus were missing something obvious. "They've been in love for years."  
  
"And love fades." Remus shrugged. "It does, Harry. I think you know that more intuitively than you're letting on, seeing as your fiancée is never here, and you go very quiet when the topic comes up in conversation."  
  
"We're talking about Ron," Harry deflected immediately.  
  
"Do you think," Remus asked delicately, reaching for another biscuit to keep his nervous fingers busy, "that Ron could be gay?"  
  
Harry spluttered on his mouthful of tea and choked for a good thirty seconds before his eyes stopped streaming. He wiped them on the back of his hand and looked up incredulously at Remus.  
  
"Ron? Gay? I don't think so. He's just... straight. Hates pink, hates girly stuff."  
  
"Not all gay men dress for a cocktail party and smell like a boudoir, Harry." Remus stared, setting his eyebrows so that Harry couldn't miss his point.  
  
"Oh," Harry went an unflattering shade of pink. "Oh."  
  
"You look like you've swallowed a Hinkypunk." Remus sniggered, lifting his mug to his lips for another mouthful.  
  
"So... do you... Ron?"  
  
"I just wondered, a comment he made last night. But it would explain some things, how upset he is, how uncomfortable he seems..."  
  
"But he's never so much as looked at another bloke."  
  
"That you've seen," Remus pointed out. "Look, it was just an idea. I might be way off -losing my touch in my old age."  
  
"Well... if you're gay, and Ron's gay..."  
  
"We don't know if Ron's gay." Remus was beginning to regret ever saying anything.  
  
"Would you date him? I think you'd be good for him." Harry grinned. "Calming... soothing..."  
  
"I think he would think me far too like Hermione."  
  
"Bollocks," Harry said flatly. "You were a Marauder. You're no pushover, and you've got everything that Ron loves."  
  
"But that's a far push from finding a man twice his age, not to mention one as battered as I am, attractive, Harry."  
  
"It could happen," Harry said churlishly.  
  
"Doubtful." Remus downed the rest of his tea and got to his feet. "Very doubtful."  
  
 _But if it wasn't, you'd be over the fucking moon..._  
  


* * *

  
  
"Where are you going this late at night?" Remus frowned, looking up from the paper.  
  
He was, though he didn't want to admit it, bored. His eyes were sore from reading, and his joints had started to grate, making walking painful.  
  
"Can't sleep," Ron muttered.  
  
"Not surprised, you went to bed at seven."  
  
"I didn't fall asleep then, either." Ron sounded moody and desperately low.  
  
"What about a walk then?" Remus heaved himself to his feet and forced the surge of impending pain to keep out of his expression. "The tide's out."  
  
"That was the plan." Ron pulled open the door.  
  
"Do you mind company? Peace and quiet is getting rather..."  
  
"Dull?" Ron asked, his voice equally dull.  
  
"Exactly." Remus lifted his jacket from a hook on the wall and slipped his arms into the sleeves. "Lead on."  
  
The night was windy and Remus could smell heavy salt in the air. The good weather of the day had vanished to be replaced by clouds which obscured the stars from view.  
  
"Not a very nice night for a walk," Ron muttered beneath his breath. "Only mad people like us would be out here."  
  
"Well, I've always been a bit mad," Remus offered with a smile. "You get used to it."  
  
"I think I will." Ron returned a half-hearted smile and buried his hands in his pockets.  
  
He looked impossibly young, Remus thought, to be so saddened. Comforting -but more probably condescending- words were on the tip of his tongue, so he simply chewed on them, knowing they wouldn't help. He didn't know what to say to Ron as sand crept into his shoes, grating between his socks and the soles of his feet.  
  
"I don't know why I came here." He laughed slightly, tipping his head back as they walked. Grey layered over inky black, giving the sky a smoky appearance. "I hate sand. I'm not a fan of the wind; it makes my joints ache."  
  
"Harry asked you," Ron said simply. "And you needed the break."  
  
"How did you know that?"  
  
Ron shrugged and shook his head, as if the answer was obvious; Remus didn't press him for an explanation.  
  
"Did you come here just to get away from her, or to get away from what else you don't want to face?"   
  
"Both," Ron answered truthfully.  
  
"So... do you think that it's helped, being here, or are you just prolonging the agony, as it were?"  
  
"Both." Ron laughed, and looked to his right. "Harry wants answers, but I don't know what to tell him. I don't want to upset him... he has as much vested in our relationship as we do. If we split up, happily or unhappily, his two best friends are at odds. I get it, Remus, I really do... but I can't do it any more."  
  
They came to a halt at the shore line, which raced daringly towards their shoes with a methodical sway over the sand. Remus could see bigger waves cresting further out, and one rocked the water, pushing a bigger swell their way. He sensibly retreated, but Ron did not move. When the night-cooled water crashed over his canvas trainers, drenching his jeans and splashing up his legs, the redhead didn't even make a noise of complaint.  
  
"Ron?" Remus called out to him. "Don't be daft, get out of there."  
  
"You sound like my Mum," was the boy's quiet reply, and to Remus' consternation, Ron took a few steps forward, wading into the water.  
  
"What are you playing at?" he asked warily. "It's too cold for that. And the wind is..."  
  
He was cut off by a crash of thunder in the distance. He held his breath waiting for the accompanying fork of lightening. Storms set every single one of his heightened senses on edge. They made him shiver as the scent of rain thickened the air, and the freshness always burned his throat. It was beautiful, but came at a price. Nothing smelt right after rain and natural force _that_ strong.  
  
The first patter landed on his brow, and Remus glanced back at the house. The lights they had neglected to extinguish twinkled invitingly back at him. He suddenly wasn't sure why he had given up the warmth for the gathering storm beyond the walls.  
  
 _Him._  
  
Remus sighed and folded his arms over his chest, swivelling his gaze back to Ron, who stood stock still, ankle-deep in water, staring at an indeterminable point in the distance. Another roll of thunder cut across the sky and the back of Remus' neck began to prickle with tension.  
  
"Ron, let's go back to the house," he called. "Make some tea and just have a chat?"  
  
"I don't want to chat," Ron's voice was quiet.  
  
The sea seemed to be growing rougher by the second, and Remus looked up; the cloud cover had gone from mild to threatening in a matter of minutes.  
  
"This isn't going to be pretty, it's been too warm during the day," he pointed out, but knew his warning didn't land. "Come on," he said forcefully, reaching forward to lock his fingers around Ron's upper arm in a gap in the swelling water, and tugged.  
  
Ron's solid, unmoving strength dragged him forward, but from the second that his fingers had made contact, a freckled face looked over his shoulder. Unable to move before the next wave caught him, Remus hissed as his feet and ankles were washed with seawater.  
  
"Happy now?" he muttered bitterly, splashing around so that he stood in front of Ron. "What are you playing at?"  
  
"Nothing," Ron answered, but more thunder sounded. "I like storms."  
  
"I don't when I'm in the middle of one," Remus said flatly.  
  
"Well go back to the house then, I'm not keeping you here."  
  
"You are, actually." Remus jumped as another icy splash went up the back of his thighs. "Jesus!"  
  
Ron's laugh lit up his face, as his lips split into a wide grin and his head tipped back. Remus couldn't deny that he was attractive that way, finally smiling, _finally_ warm, as he remembered Ron to have been.  
  
It was all gone in a flash.  
  
"Please, just come back to the house." Remus gestured to it, as the rain kicked up a notch around them. Auburn hair began to flatten to Ron's head, darkening as droplets trickled down his cheeks. It was a beautiful, magnetic distraction.  
  
"You're staring at me," Ron breathed.  
  
"Hard not to."  
  
Remus regretted the words as soon as they left his tongue, but they caused surprise and even a little pleasure to bloom in Ron's expression. The wizard stood there, looking back at Remus, not speaking, until his hand lifted and settled on Remus' chest.  
  
"Are you like me?" Ron whispered, taking the smallest of steps towards him.  
  
Remus said nothing; he didn't want to alarm Ron by letting him know that he had caught on to his secret, assuming it would ruin the tentative current of trust flowing between them. The touch on his cold chest was like a furnace, spreading wherever Ron made contact.  
  
"I don't know what I am," Ron confessed, sapphire eyes shutting away beneath almost lilac eyelids. "I don't."  
  
"I think you do," Remus said softly. "But you're afraid of it."  
  
Ron's chin tucked in, giving the slightest of nods as tension creased his brow.  
  
The flat palm on Remus' shirt suddenly became a tight fist, and before he knew it, hard, unforgiving lips covered his own. Ron's kiss was relentless, pressing against him, forcing his body, so worked up by nature that evening, to react. They crashed together and Remus gripped his back, enjoying the sudden burst of taste as Ron's lips parted for him, permitting him entry which he automatically and hungrily took.  
  
It had been a long time since he had tasted another man on his tongue.  
  
A moan reminiscent of the one he had heard in the shower the previous morning melted into his mouth and Remus replied with his own, dropping one hand to grip at the small of Ron's back. The sound seemed to wake the redhead up, and his eyes flew open to widen with first shock, and then damning horror.  
  
There was an obscene sucking sound as their lips parted; Ron threw himself backwards, staggering in the water. The colour had drained from his face.  
  
"I'm sorry," he threw over his shoulder as he charged away, spray kicking up about his feet, and then sand, as he ran up the beach, through the rain and out of sight.  
  
Remus felt like a fool as he reached up and touched the damp spit Ron had left on his lips. The rain had soaked through his jacket and his shirt clung to his skin. He shivered, but the rain, in reality, had little to do with his discomfort.  
  
A light suddenly popped off in their tiny annex to the house. Remus knew exactly what Ron had done as he began to make his way up the beach. He saw a thin body curled on an uncomfortable bed. He saw a face half-turned into a pillow. When he stepped into the tiny sitting room, and saw Ron's closed door, he could almost hear the rashness of his breath and feel the desperation of his clenched fingers.  
  
Knowing that such upset lay behind just a flimsy door unnerved him. It was not in Remus' nature to allow suffering to play out without trying to help, but he wasn't sure that Ron would welcome his intrusion.  
  
Still licking the taste of the other man from his lips, Remus headed to his bedroom, shedding his wet clothes as he went.


	2. Chapter 2

When Remus awoke, he knew that he had slept far longer than he had intended. The sun was in the wrong position on the wrong wall, and the stiffness of his body told him he had been under for a long time. He wasn't wholly surprised. The storm had crashed on long into the night and it had kept him from his dreams, banging directly overhead every time sleep beckoned. In the end he had given up, resting his elbows on the windowsill as he watched the lightning from the safety of his dark lodgings.  
  
Several times he had had to blink the image of Ron standing in the water out of his mind. It proved too striking, however, to forget. His mind, as creative and colourful as it was, could not help twisting the reality. Sometimes when he had looked there had been no rough sea, only Ron and peaceful moonlight.  
  
He didn't even want to consider the irony of finding a man beautiful in the pale white wash, when it normally only ever sent fear into his bones. Groaning, Remus rolled to sitting and put his feet on the floor, reaching up to rub at his eyes. The house, or at least their small part of it, sounded quiet and he was glad. He wasn't sure how Ron would react when they came face to face.  
  
Remembering the kiss sent his mouth dry and Remus sighed at his body's own hopefulness.  
  
 _Always, always hoping too much._  
  
***  
  
"Ron went out early this morning," Harry said through a mouthful of ham baguette. "Not back yet."  
  
"Was he... alright?" Remus asked carefully, pausing between mouthfuls of his own lunch to wait for the answer.  
  
"Looked like he hadn't slept again. I think he'd been crying..."  
  
"Which is perfectly fine," Remus said, wondering why a defensive edge had crept into his tone. "He's going through a lot of stress at the moment."  
  
Harry looked at him thoughtfully, and opened his mouth to comment, but Remus looked away and focussed on another group eating their lunch in the village pub.  
  
"He'll want to leave soon," Harry sighed, and dropped his lunch on his plate. "And I don't think I can let him."  
  
"You have to let him do what he wants," Remus answered automatically. "Stifling him won't help, Harry. He's got to find his own way."  
  
"But he's just... being so weird!" Harry huffed. "You don't know what it's like."  
  
"Oh, really. Me, who was best friends with two of the stroppiest boys in my year... _I_ don't know what it's like?"  
  
Harry paused and then laughed, awkwardly rubbing at his nose. "S'pose you do."  
  
"Just let Ron find his own way," Remus reiterated. "Everything will be fine."  
  
"It better be," Harry muttered, and attacked his ham baguette again.  
  
***  
  
A deep ache in his spine had caused Remus to rise from his bed and wander restlessly in the dark around Harry's house. He had tried to keep his step light and his pain hidden, but really he was only trying to wear himself out to the point where he would fall asleep, agony or no agony. He walked along the hallway, feet catching on the carpet, until he heard a slight tinkle from his right.  
  
Frowning, he stepped into the outer room of the smaller one, which held the piano he'd uncovered. He hadn't visited it again since the first occasion, but as he heard another definite note sound, he wondered who was playing it in the middle of the night. He stood in the doorway and found, much to his surprise, Ron sitting on the stool in his pyjamas, hair glowing in the moonlight pouring in through the window.  
  
"Bollocks," the redhead swore bitterly. "You found me."  
  
"I wasn't looking." Remus didn't know why, but he felt the need to reassure the man, who got silently to his feet.  
  
"No, I was trying to plant a present for you, actually." Ron carded his fingers back through his hair. "Because I'm leaving in the morning... I didn't think I'd see you. Today I went for a walk, see..."  
  
"Oh?" Remus moved further into the room.  
  
"Found an old bookshop," Ron's voice lowered. "I went in because I just thought... though it's too late for the effort, maybe it wasn't too late to understand?"  
  
"It's never too late to gain knowledge," Remus agreed softly. "How did you find it?"  
  
"Old," Ron confirmed with a sage nod. "Stank like my Auntie Muriel's. But I found something and I thought you might like it, so I..."  
  
One long-fingered hand gestured at the tiny little groove which served as a book stand; Remus noticed, with an unmanly romantic tremor of his guts, that the stand was no longer empty. A yellowed, crumbling book of sheet music sat there, waiting.  
  
"I have no idea if it's good music or what." Ron seemed embarrassed. "But I just thought that after last night and how nice you've been... I kind of owed you."  
  
"You owe me nothing, Ron... I know that we're... separated by age." He cleared his throat. "But all I wanted was for you to feel comfortable when you're going through a tough time."  
  
"The kiss wasn't about comfortable," Ron said shrewdly. "The kiss was about you wanting to kiss me."  
  
Remus stared back at the redhead and found, at the worst possible moment, that his words had deserted him. Tongue dry, he licked his lips and tried to think.  
  
"I wanted to kiss you." Ron took a step closer. "I thought that... it would make sense, if I did. That it'd tell me everything."  
  
"Did it?" Remus murmured, as Ron neared him, closing the distance at a speed which was far too hasty to be unintentional.  
  
"It made it _worse._ "  
  
Ron's breath curled over the bottom half of Remus' face. Wearing only thin pyjama bottoms, his body was tantalising, creamy and pale in the bleached light from the sky.  
  
"Ron..." Remus felt he had to warn him, to whisper the fact that he couldn't, and probably wouldn't, be able to resist the temptation that the redhead presented.  
  
"Please..."  
  
Ron's mutter surprised him, and Remus looked up.  
  
"Kiss me again," Ron asked, his eyes wide with an almost childish-innocence.  
  
It melted, however, when Remus grabbed his face in his hands and crushed their lips together, with the same fervency and the same spine-tingling _rush_ as the first time. He didn't realise that he was pushing the lithe body beneath his hands until a horrendous crash of clashing notes rang out in the air, and they both jumped to deathly stillness, joined at the lip, eyes wide.  
  
"Fuck," Ron gasped, throwing his head back and seating himself more firmly on the keys. They crashed again and Remus winced, skirting his fingers down skinny sides until they were planted on narrow hips.  
  
He edged his way in between the man's thighs and pressed him against the back of the decrepit old upright. Remus massaged where he touched, igniting the kiss back to life after the initial shock of the noise.  
  
"I don't know what I'm doing," Ron breathed, shame flushing his cheeks a beautiful shade of pink. "I'm... It's..."  
  
"Shh." Remus silenced him with a kiss to the tip of his nose, and Ron's eyes slid shut. He sucked in a deep breath, and waited.  
  
Tracing one finger down the length of a very long thigh, Remus took his other hand up to entwine it in colourful hair. It was slightly matte and tangled to his touch, indicating a disturbed sleep, and he fought to stay gentle as he wormed his way in.  
  
"What do you want?" Remus whispered.  
  
"I want to feel," Ron answered, keeping his eyes closed. "You know how, in the book... she has sex with other men because whilst she can talk with her husband, he can't touch her, and make her really feel him? And she wants more than that to live?"  
  
 _Needs more._  
  
Remus knew an answer wasn't required, but longed to comment on their sudden switch to twentieth century literature. He hoped that he successfully managed to hide his surprise at the wizard's analysis. Ron was soft and unyielding beneath his touch, looking back at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.  
  
"I want to feel," he groaned, tipping his head back so that the base of his skull thudded on the top of the piano. "I just want..."  
  
One large hand came up off the keys, where it had been resting, and grabbed the wrist of Remus' hand that caressed his leg. Remus found the sight of his own palm landing on Ron's barely protected crotch entrancingly erotic. The searing heat of an interested cock burned through the cotton, sparking into his skin and setting him completely alight. His fingers squeezed without instruction. Ron moaned and wriggled into the keys, his long legs spreading even wider, though Remus had not thought it possible.  
  
"Touch me," Ron begged, and despite the plea in his tone, it sounded more like a command. Remus hastened to fulfil it, releasing his grip long enough to slip his fingers into the drawstring waistband.  
  
Coarse hairs leading from the wizard's navel scraped the back of his hand and he shivered, waiting for the moment when his fingers would press into thicker, coarser hair, in anticipation of what lay beyond. Ron let out a small mewl of frustration as Remus slowed his pace, teasing him, making him wait for what he clearly wanted.  
  
"Remus..."  
  
"Shh," he admonished, tacking their lips together. "You want to feel, Ron, so just sit there and feel."  
  
Remus saw Ron's throat make a hard swallow and leant forward to kiss the flesh, roughened with stubble at that late hour, whilst his fingers finally met their target. Ron arched up into his touch and then eased down, causing another plunk of the keys, though it was more gentle and less wince-inducing than the first.  
  
"Mmph," he mumbled into Remus' mouth, as his tongue was lightly sucked at the tip.  
  
Remus felt the immediate increased pressure in what he held and sucked again, before plunging his hand down and up on the shaft. Ron's chest bounced as his breath grew heavier with each passing pump, and Remus took a moment to appreciate him. His top half was completely bare, adorned only by freckled skin and wiry muscles which perfectly accented his lanky frame. His nipples were pink, almost delicate as they framed a rowdy patch of hair between them. Ron's arms suddenly lifted, reaching behind him to grip on the piano back that he leant upon; even his armpits were ablaze with red hair. An unsubtle waft of sweat met Remus' nose, and it drove straight to the pit of his belly, where his attraction and lust grew as one: spreading, consuming, forcing blood to his groin.  
  
"Have you ever been touched by another man before?" he muttered, keeping his voice low and dark as he directed it into Ron's ear.  
  
"Never," was the strangled reply. "And I... I don't know if I... oh gods, Remus, don't stop."  
  
"I won't," he murmured, kissed gently into Ron's hair, and began to nibble down the line of his throat, beneath his ear.  
  
He was so caught up in doling out the obvious pleasure that he didn't notice how the noise had heightened again. Ron was rocking back and forth into his palm, and beneath his backside the keys were lifting and falling, making an almighty racket as Ron bucked his way towards his finish.  
  
"I want to taste you."  
  
Ordinarily, such a brash comment would have made Remus loathe himself. What they were doing, however, was far from ordinary. Ron was hard and wanting, sitting on a piano. Remus was on holiday, where he never went. Life had taken a strange but welcome turn, and perhaps, Remus thought, normality had no place in their secret, shared little moment.  
  
He laid a sloppy path of kisses through the centre of Ron's chest, pausing to suckle noisily over each of his nipples, which made the younger man moan his name. When Remus continued south, he paid attention to a deep navel, flicking his tongue in and out, teasing his intentions and at the same time making them perfectly obvious. Ron squirmed against the wet touch, his hardness eager beneath checked cotton with a telling damp patch near the waistband.  
  
Remus tugged the useless garment down slightly, freeing up what he had known he would see. The meaty flesh beneath his mouth looked succulent, reddened and slightly freckled. The scent curled straight into his nostrils and eradicated any ideas of teasing the redhead further as it shattered his self-control. He laid kisses, as wet and as gentle as those which he had pressed to Ron's chest, along the twitching shaft, before nuzzling at the damp tip.  
  
"Remus... I hope you're not pissing about," Ron moaned. "If you're going to, just... do it... please..."  
  
Fingers threaded into his greying hair and gripped tightly; the pain was nothing but an incentive, Remus found, as he extended his tongue to demurely lap at the head of Ron's cock, before he added pressure. Seconds later he captured the whole head in his mouth and sucked it.  
  
Another crash of clashing keys sounded through the room and his heart began to pound a bizarre rhythm in his chest. Another horrendous smash of notes sounded as Ron bucked hard into his mouth, bashing into his teeth. His hiss was lost in the awful music he was making as Ron rocked in and out of the wet space, flattening Remus' tongue into his bottom teeth, nearly gagging him.  
  
His franticness built, and the sounds grew frequent, over and over, accompanied by the melody of Ron's own grunts, moans and pleas.  
  
Remus tasted salt in his mouth, savoured it, and began to hum.  
  
Ron shuddered, every inch of his body trembling as he gasped, lifting his hips for the last time and spending himself into his ex-professor's mouth. Remus worked his jaw, giving the impression that he was not only drinking from the youth spread over the piano like butter over a proverbial cracker, but that he was _enjoying_ it, too.  
  
 _And fuck, are you enjoying it._  
  
Ron was panting as he slumped backwards. Remus imagined how his skin must have been sweaty, sticking to the old, varnished wood. He heard rustling paper and imagined the sweat seeping into the old book that Ron had bought him. He shivered his own shudder of completion, flooding the inside of his underwear, and finally relaxed his jaw to let Ron slide out of his mouth.  
  
Dropping his forehead forward to rest on Ron's belly, Remus tried to catch his breath. His back ached even harder from his bent over position, and his throat stung with the heat which had just poured down it, but even as tiredness caught up with him, he felt nothing other than satisfaction.  
  
Ron was still, and his breath had quietened as they sat together in silence, listening to the sounds of the waves beyond the window.  
  
"We should get to bed," Remus whispered finally, pressing a soft kiss to the stomach on which his head had rested, and rose properly to his feet.  
  
Ron looked at him with half-lidded eyes, in which remnants of lust still lingered in a hazy, nonsensical stare.  
  
"Can I stay with you tonight?" Ron murmured, as Remus helped him off the piano.   
  
The keys were silent, and the book slightly crumpled. Ron stepped closer to him.  
  
"Did you like your present?" he asked shyly.  
  
"I'm sure I'll love it," Remus kissed him on the forehead. "But I'm not sure it'll ever be as good without you sitting on it."  
  
Ron managed a tired, pleased little smile, and Remus pulled him towards the door.  
  


* * *

  
  
A loud thumping on the door woke him up, and Remus' first instinct was to roll over and stuff his head under the pillow. His plan was foiled, however, when his body slammed into another, and the body grunted and swore at him. Remus' eyes were open in a flash, blinded by the crystal clear brightness of the room. The atmosphere had been scrubbed clean by the storm of the evening before, and he was sightless.  
  
The door still pounded, and the man in his bed was still grumbling beneath his breath.  
  
"Shh," the body whispered finally. "Just pretend to be asleep and he'll go away."  
  
Remus lay very still, even holding his breath. Sure enough, though with several ear-splitting bangs first, the thudding stopped, and the sound of retreating footsteps could be heard. Only then did he open his eyes again and look to his left.  
  
Ron's hair was a messy tangle on his pillow and his eyes crusty with sleep. But his lips were pink and kissable, and Remus found himself doing exactly that. One strong hand spread on his back, holding him in place, and Ron rocked forward, pressing their bodies together to create friction.  
  
"Thank you for last night," Ron mumbled against his lips. "It was..."  
  
"Nothing." Remus nuzzled lightly against the end of his nose.  
  
He moved in for another kiss, but the banging on his door suddenly returned, and that time, after five fruitless knocks, the wood swung inward.  
  
"Remus, I'm sorry, but Ron's gone and hasn't left a note, I'm really worried and I want you to help me come and find him."  
  
Harry clearly hadn't even _seen_ what was in front of him until he had finished his sentence and was preparing to leave again. Remus watched the almost comical shock spreading on the bespectacled wizard's face.  
  
"I've found him, don't worry." Remus tried to keep his tone free of laughter, as Ron's face had surpassed red to puce whilst he cowered beneath the bed sheets.  
  
"I... right." Harry gaped like a fish, and took a step back towards the sitting room. "I... I'll just..."  
  
"Go," Remus finished for him with a polite smile, but was unable to stop the twinkle building in his eye.  
  
Harry sent him a firm glare of shock before he flew from the room, banging the door shut behind him.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ron said immediately.  
  
"Why? Harry's the one who should learn to be patient."  
  
"But... well, you've been... outed, I suppose."  
  
"I've never been in," Remus snorted. "I just never chose to tell of it... what did it matter anyway? We were all so busy with the war, different jobs, and afterwards... grieving. It was never important."  
  
"I'm sorry you were caught in bed with _me_ , though." Ron made a face. "Hardly catch of the day."  
  
Remus knew he could have made a lewd remark, but he opted instead for reaching for Ron's hand, tangling their fingers together, and lifting it to his mouth for a kiss.  
  
"Stay another few days?" he implored. "Much more to... explore. Last night was just the taster."  
  
"My leave runs out today," Ron said quietly, and it was impossible to tell whether he was saddened or relieved by the prospect of returning to work. "And I have to face the real world again some time. Can't be beaches and midnight wanks on old pianos forever, right?"  
  
"Unfortunately." Remus felt his hope deflate as Ron shifted in the bed, making to climb out of it.  
  
***  
  
 _Too much hope._  
  
Remus sighed as he looked around the tiny sitting room. Ron's absence made the few rooms seem depressingly bare. He ambled to the window and looked out at the sea, whilst cracking the knuckles on his fingers. After the redhead's departure, and Harry's subsequent demanding of details, he had carried himself off to the tiny piano room to touch the keys, and examine the gift Ron had bought him.  
  
It had turned out to be a bizarre collection of piano arrangements of songs, from Italian arias to dramatic orchestral pieces. It had taken him forever to get the hang of properly playing, and as such, his knuckles were sore and his wrists tired, made worse by the impending moon, and the fervency with which he had brought Ron to completion the evening before.  
  
Just thinking of his body spread out over the keys had been enough to make him hard as he sat, alone, staring out at the beach.  
  
Darkness had fallen, he and Harry had taken dinner together and Harry was frantically tidying the house because it looked like Ginny might actually make it home for the evening. When Remus had left him, Harry had been up to his elbows in dirty pants and socks, willing his washing spell to move faster as time ran out.  
  
Remus had offered to help and had been shooed away; he wondered, for the most part, if Harry was embarrassed by what he had seen that morning, and had no idea what to talk about, other than the fact that his best friend, and his ex-professor and best friend of his parents, had been in bed that morning. Remus got the impression that telling Harry that nothing had actually happened in the bed, bar sleep, would have been of little comfort.  
  
Yawning, he decided to give up and head to bed. If the rooms got any lonelier, he thought, he would pack up his belongings and travel home the next day. There was no point growing miserable in a place which had held very happy, relaxing memories of his holiday thus far. The candles flickered to life on his entrance, a handy little spell which Harry had employed in all of the rooms of his house, and Remus began to strip himself of his shirt, not bothering to close the curtains. At that time of night, the beach was deserted and there was nobody to peer in at him, and he had no show to give if they did.  
  
He had one leg out of his trousers when he noticed the folded sheet of parchment on his pillow. Clumsily tripping over them as he reached for it, Remus landed with a bounce on his bed, his ankles tangled in the hems, as he hungrily began to read.  
  
 _Remus,  
  
Hope you spent the day playing on the piano. I didn't suffer going into that bookshop for you to ignore it because it's not as fun without my arse on it._  
  
Remus laughed out loud and lifted the letter higher, so that he didn't have to squint.  
  
 _I just wanted to say thank you. Never thought I'd be one for the sort of holiday romance my mum goes mad over, but I guess I should hold my hands up and say I was wrong. Not that I'd ever thought about it, or you before, really._  
  
The honesty wasn't painful, but it made his smile falter.  
  
 _That was a pretty stupid mistake. What happened felt right. I don't know why. The entire holiday felt right too, us being there, same time, same place... My mum will have a field day with this, you realise? Fate. Harmony. All that bollocks._  
  
His smile was back as warmth spread through him, almost as though Ron was there, injecting him with it.  
  
 _I don't know what I'm trying to say. Well I do. My address is at the bottom of the letter and when you're done reading and playing the piano, if you want to come round, you should. I want you to._  
  
Remus' eyes swept over the address he knew to be in London from the postcode. Realisation sank in as, with that address, he understood that Ron and Hermione had probably separated some time ago, but the redhead had never actually said anything until he could no longer bear to hide the truth.  
  
 _Ron._  
  
He turned the letter over on the off chance and was surprised to find another scrawled message.  
  
 _P.S: I'm no... literary brainbox or anything, but Remus, you really need to get some more bloke-ish books in your collection. Porn is great, but not when you need twenty different words to say 'and they went to bed and fucked'._  
  
Remus burst out laughing at that, dropping the letter onto his legs, and wondered if Ron knew how close to the mark he had hit. How another lover had said nearly the exact same words, and held the same opinions of his favoured literature.  
  
He got to his feet and pulled his suitcase from beneath the bed, rummaging for his quill and some parchment.  
  
 _Ron,  
  
Save the 'and they went to bed and fucked' for real life. It's much more satisfying. Trust me.  
  
Yours,  
Remus._  
  
He stared at the note, thinking it seemed brusque and uninviting. Narrowing his eyes, and smiling down at the paper, he added:  
  
 _P.S: I'll show you just how much more on Thursday night when I get home._  
  
Looking at the postscript, his resolve wavered, and Remus wasn't sure. Hope, however, flared to life within him, forcing him to fold the parchment and set off in search of Harry's carrier owl.


End file.
